Page 23 of Villains Never Die

I tried to put a face to the name and barely remembered who he was, but I remembered the money, and I didn’t have it in my possession. He left without bringing it to me, if he procured it at all. My shoulders grew heavier.

“Do a locator spell, bring him in quickly. Don’t kill him. I just want to talk to him. Is that all the ‘hard stuff’?”

“I figured that would irritate you more than the rest of it.” He shrugged and stood up to throw his can in the bin. I found myself strangely lacking irritation as he turned to the fridge and opened it, poking around for leftovers.

I rolled my eyes. “If you’re hungry, go get breakfast. It’s empty.”

“You need to eat more and sleep.” He turned to me, the fridge door still open and gripped in one hand. “You can’t run on empty forever.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Text me if you need anything,” he said, pausing a moment longer and assessing me before he closed the fridge and headed for the door.

When he was gone, I slouched a little and sighed. He was probably right. For all my love of fine food, lately I’d subsisted on toast and soft-boiled eggs or an apple grabbed from the bowl on the counter in a hurry. If I couldn’t get more sleep, I needed more fuel.

I turned to my closet and picked out something to wear—black trousers and a blue button-up. I would forgo the jacket today. Since Gray was the only person who would ever see me in sweatpants and a t-shirt, I showered, dressed, and combed my hair before I went downstairs. I bypassed my office and headed to a diner up the street. I liked fine food, but a greasy American breakfast was good for the palate once in a while too.

Not only was I unfazed by the problem with Teddy as I sat down in a red leather booth, I felt oddly light. Perhaps it was the anticipation of a reply to my message, or maybe it was how the message distracted me from the other person haunting me—and I didn’t mean the fucking dead that followed me everywhere—but I thought today might actually be a good day.

Chapter Ten

I wouldn’t call that day a good day, but it was a simple day, the kind where nothing went wrong, no one pissed me off, and the voices left me alone. After filling myself with scrambled eggs and home fries, I spent the day in my office doing menial work until the sun went down and I called it a day.

The light on the lift lit green over each number as it climbed the floors to the top of the building, and a prickle of dread came over me. The voices were still silent. There was no warning to accompany the trepidation with which I stepped into the hallway and punched in the code on a keypad to unlock my front door. I reminded myself that this building was secure, that my penthouse was a fortress that took a doorman and an access code to reach, and that there was an army of security guards between those two barriers to entry.

I crept toward the bedroom and turned on the light. I did not scream, but my next swallow got caught in my throat and my lungs forgot how to work for thirty seconds.

Lounging in my bedwith his shoes on, Rook turned his head to me and smirked.

“Good day at the office?”

“How the hell did you get in here?”

I wanted him to be a hallucination. I wanted years of restless, sleepless nights to have finally driven me batty. Unfortunately, much like the voices, I was sure the man in front of me was real.

He pushed off the bed and perused my room, eyeing the red and gold wallpaper and the black accents that matched my bedsheets.

“I knew you lived in a penthouse. Nice place, by the way.”

“How thehelldid you get in here?” I repeated.

He snorted. “Your security sucks. The doorman can’t even detect a basic cloaking spell and I caught one of your guys sleeping outside the elevator.”

I pulled out my phone, glancing up occasionally to keep an eye on Rook, and texted Gray.

The doorman and elevator guard on duty are Fired.

With a capital ‘F.’ Gray would know what I meant.

Gray: Copy that. Need backup?

I have it handled.

When I put my phone back in my pocket, Rook was still in place by the window, watching me with bright eyes.

“Why are you here?” I asked. “And why shouldn’t I kill you?”

“It would be such a mess in your fancy bedroom,” he laughed, gesturing to the luxury around us. “And I’m here to offer you a truce.”